


The Cabbie

by serraketo



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Also not really a character death, Angst, Gen, Love Confessions, Post-Reichenbach, though not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-01 11:35:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serraketo/pseuds/serraketo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John & Mrs. Hudson visit Sherlock's grave on that dreary afternoon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cabbie

The cab pulled up to 221B Baker Street silently, pausing to allow the two occupants, currently standing on the street, to take their seats quickly before pulling away.

"Did you get card for the flowers?" The lady asked, poking her head around in a quick search.

The man nodded curtly. "Fat lot of help it will do him now, Mrs. Hudson."

The cab driver looked back in time to see the flash of hurt across her face. She turned to gaze out the window, mirroring John's position. "Well, I only meant to help." She muttered. "It's supposed to be good, you know? Writing down your thoughts. Helps the grieving process."

John exhaled, allowing his head to drop to his chest as his shoulders slumped inwards. "Grieving won't make me feel better, Mrs. H. I can't think of anything that will."

Mrs. Hudson nodded carefully at this and the cab fell into silence.

The driver glanced occasionally at his passengers in the rear view mirror as the city slowly gave way to the outer lying suburbs.

"John?"

John started as the silence was broken for the first time in an hour. "Mmm?"

"He was... He was more to you, wasn't he? Than just a friend?"

There was a long pause, expectant like he previous silence hadn't been. John deliberated carefully over his answer. "I don't think... I don't think he ever could have been. He lacked certain emotional abilities, you may have noticed."

Mrs. Hudson smiled softly and waited for more. "But just because you don't think he could, doesn't mean you didn't think about it yourself, is that it?"

John caught her gaze for just a moment, evaluating. His lips quirked up into an almost smile as Mrs. Hudson reached over and squeezed his hand in hers. John smiled for just a moment until he noticed the driver's head tilted towards them, curious. He cleared his throat.

"Right then," he muttered, snatching his hand away and pointing to the cemetery entry gates. "Just over there, thanks mate."

\---------------------

The tree behind him rustled in the slight breeze as Sherlock struggled to hear John's words to his grave. He resisted the urge to creep closer, knowing for sure that John's military training would have his attention snap immediately toward the movement.

So he stayed where he was, deductions about John's emotional plea to the dark marble headstone put on hold without the necessary up close information.

Emotions. Dull.

It wasn't that he didn't understand emotion, of course not. He had learnt all of the theory behind them in university. What he never could wrap his mind around was the attachment. Sherlock couldn't recall a single action he'd performed since John had moved in that would lead the man to have such feelings for him. And how? How could emotions overrule all logical reasoning?

He hadn't expected the wave of regret, sorrow and frustration that had hit him after Moriarty had shot himself. He'd only briefly thought of John and all his thoughts, ideas, plans blew away on the breeze as he was staggered by chemicals rushing around his body making him _feel_.

Within that moment, all he could think of was how difficult it would be to leave the doctor. How a tiny part of him would be staying in London while he tried left to solve Moriarty's puzzle. Sherlock resolved then and there that he would monitor John by any means possible.

John needed to continue on with life.

So here he was. Watching as John steeled himself for the walk back to Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock yearned to call out, to ease the other man's suffering. And this new revelation... John cared for him too. Deeply, it would seem, if the conversation in the car was to be believed.

But that would have to wait.

Sherlock turned and donned his cap again, starting towards the cab still parked near the entry to the cemetery. John and Mrs. Hudson would be ready to leave momentarily and the car wouldn't drive itself back to Baker Street.

No one ever thinks about the cabbie.

**Author's Note:**

> My first foray into the Sherlock fandom!  
> Inspired by post number #2848 on the bbcsherlockheadcanon tumblr: "Sherlock was the cab driver when Mrs. Hudson and John went to Sherlock's funeral. Sherlock knew that 'no one ever thinks about the cabbie' and used the knowledge to ensure he wouldn't be discovered'.
> 
> [Here](http://bbcsherlockheadcanon.tumblr.com/post/66893236974/submission-by-sherlockiancandidate)
> 
>  
> 
>  


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